


bros of a feather

by emilywolf



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Wingfic, can be boyfs if you squint, or can be not boyfs if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilywolf/pseuds/emilywolf
Summary: Jeremy is molting and it sucks. Michael's got his back, though, and also his wings.





	bros of a feather

**Author's Note:**

> i'm die for some wingfic content, so i decided to be the content creator i want to see in the world

Jeremy’s room was an absolute mess. Pillows scattered, clothes covering the floor, feathers  _ everywhere _ . He hated this. Molting for the third time in like, 4 months. It was completely unnecessary and completely his fault.

 

He hunched his wings forward, trying to smooth the itch that was always just out of reach. He flopped onto his belly, hoping that maybe a new angle would help him get at it. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t. Jeremy groaned, muffling his voice by shoving his face into a pillow. He needed help.

 

As much as he loved his dad, he wasn’t ready to discuss the whole Squip thing yet. Mostly cause he didn’t want to spend an hour explaining exactly what the Squip was-- he still didn’t even get it. 

 

His hands were texting up Michael before he even realized what he was doing. It’d taken forever to be back into the pattern they had been in pre-Squip, but it was like riding a bike. He never really forgot. Besides, it was Michael! They’d been friends forever and he’s sure he’s probably done worse. 

 

Well, he thought, he hasn’t, actually. The longest he’d voluntarily stopped hanging out with Michael before was in the fourth grade when he wouldn’t trade back Jeremy’s Dialga, and that had only been a week. And hadn’t been because of a supercomputer telling him that Michael was dragging him down. And he hadn’t left him at a party and called him a loser. And--

 

His phone buzzed in his hand. Right.

 

Hey can u come over?

_ yah sure _

_ whats up _

Molting

_ again??? _

_ dude that sucks lmao _

_ ill be over in five _

 

Jeremy tossed his phone somewhere on his bed, burying his face back into the pillows. The fabric was cool on his face, and he sighed. For the millionth time that day, he was wishing he’d never stepped foot in that Payless.

 

The Squip had fucked with his hormones, forcing him to drop his black crow feathers to grow in something “a little less Edgar Allen Poe”. The white feathers had been cool for a minute, until he realized that they were white because the Squip was selectively keeping them from getting certain supplements, and that they were frail as hell as a result. 

 

This time they were growing back in more naturally. The sickly white feathers were dropping and being replaced with the black ones he was used to (and he’d never thought he’d be glad to see crow feathers in his life), giving his wings a peppered black and white look. He wanted to pick pick pick at the white down, tear it out so he’d have one less reminder of the biggest mistake of his life. He scratched at his shoulder idly. He’d been a wing worrier before he’d be Squipped, but it was worse now. He yanked at a particularly stubborn covert, cringing as it pulled out. Ouch.

 

Jeremy continued on, picking and smoothing and yanking at feathers, until Michael let himself in his room. He heard the telltale swish of plastic that meant he’d stopped by the gas station on the way over, and probably brought snacks. Nice.

 

“Dude, your whole situation is a mess.” Michael approached the bed, shoving at his left wing to give him a space to sit. He grimaced when even that mild push sent an absurd amount of down fluttering. 

 

“Hadn’t even realized,” Jeremy quipped. He flapped his wings, shooting fluff and the occasional secondary feather everywhere. “I’m dying, dude.”

 

“You’re not dying you big baby.” Michael straddled over Jeremy’s waist, sitting down on his butt. “Your ass is boney as hell.”

 

Jeremy was about to snark back when Michael started smoothing, smoothing, nudging at feathers to see if they were loose, smoothing. Michael was always better at preening then him. He was all gentle touches and light pressure, where Jeremy’s self preening usually ended with a pile of feathers with little bits of skin still stuck to them.

 

The methodical nature of it was nice. Michael started at his shoulders, picking away loose bits of fluff and running his hands over the white down that remained, setting it back into place. He focused on the downy feathers first, raking fingers loosely through the tops of his wings before flattening it back out, again and again. He traced coverts, wiggling out loose ones and straightening the ones that were still firmly planted in the skin. Jeremy hummed, content.

 

Michael ran his hands down Jeremy’s primaries, and he shuddered. He still wasn’t used to people touching those, even if he’d molted a bunch lately. Michael just continued right on through, tracing over barbs and smoothing together any that had gotten bunched up or separated. Tertiaries, secondaries, and then Michael was pushing his wings shut gently so he could get at the primaries. 

 

Smooth, smooth, smooth. A gentle push or pull, then the satisfaction of it finally sitting right in his wing. Relaxing. Michael’s hand would occasionally brush against the delicate skin underneath his down, sending shivers down Jeremy’s spine. Nope, he would never get used to that. He grumbled faintly into the pillows when Michael patted him on the back and sat up.

 

“That should do it,” Michael said, moving up so he was on his knees. “You wanna play something?”

 

“I’m basking in that post preen afterglow, dude. What kind of lover are you, to leave me in this vulnerable state?” Jeremy pressed his right wing against his back, so he could roll over and expand the left dramatically. “I show you my most delicate side, and this is how you do me?”

 

Michael snickered. “Sure, dude. You’re hogging the bed.” The moment Jeremy retracted his wing, Michael flopped down where it had been, expanding his wings. One nearly hit Jeremy in the face, while the other dangled over the side of the bed. 

 

“In exchange for my excellent preening skills I’m taking a nap.” He flapped gently, patting Jeremy lightly with with a half folded wing. Jeremy sighed, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i got a ton of positive comments on snow big deal and im pumped!!! so im gonna start actually writing consistently, haha
> 
> ive also got a bmc blog @creeperinthebathroom on tumblr!
> 
> [i also have a wing au masterpost of the birds id think theyd be!!!](https://creeperinthebathroom.tumblr.com/post/161679325708/alright-a-wing-au-post-cause-i-love-this-stuff)
> 
> i have a series in the planning stages, and another longer wip fic. my tentative scheduling is to have one ~1k fic every two or three days, one 5k+ fic every week! i'll need prompts and stuff to keep this up so feel free to shoot me messages or comments!


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